


We Met in the Blaze

by Ificouldfly346



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1860s, Angst, Battle, Civil War, Death, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Prisoner of War, Slow Build, Union, confederates, some ptsd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:28:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27185182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ificouldfly346/pseuds/Ificouldfly346
Summary: Louis Tomlinson is a war general and Harry Styles is his prisoner.Or...Louis Tomlinson is a cold-hearted Union soldier who only knows war, bloodshed, and victory. Harry Styles, an unwillingly Confederate, finds himself trapped by his enemy which will challenge everything he believes in. The two may be on the opposite sides of the war, but perhaps over time, they can acknowledge their shared similarities. For starters; coming out of the war alive.This story is based loosely on a Civil War military campaign in 1864, called Sherman’s March to Sea. This campaign led around 60,000 Union soldiers on a 285-mile march from Atlanta to Savannah, Georgia.
Relationships: Harry Styles/ Louis Tomlinson, Louis Tomlinson/ Harry Styles
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Some of the events and things mentioned in this story will not be 100% accurate with the times of which the story is taken place in. I will try to make things as accurate as I can with the clothing, battles, military ranks, & everything else. But, somethings that might occur in the story might be historically inaccurate. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think <3
> 
> Also Louis’ pov will be in the next chapter :)

_June 24th, 1864 _

_“These buttons are going to be the death of me. ”  _ Harry said to himself, as he fumbled with the top button of his black, slightly cutaway morning coat.

He is dressed in his formal attire with his dark trousers, a shawl-collared waistcoat, and his white silky cravat with a jewel at the neck. He has his polish leather shoes on, and has on his cold metal rings. He ran his fingers through his voluminous curly brown hair, as he looked at his reflection through the mirror. 

He _loathe_ the image that stares back at him.

His features isn’t the part he hates. He actually doesn’t mind his looks. He is quite known for his pretty face. He has voluminous soft brown curls, mossy green eyes, a sharp jawline, and a tall strong built. So no he does not mind his features at all. He only hates the garments he’s wearing. 

He didn’t care if the clothing was made out of the finest fabrics, or if it was perfectly tailored to his body, he despises them. Harry thinks he looks like a child dressed in adult clothes. Every time he wore clothes like this, he would feel a strong urge overcome him. It would tempt him with the idea to rip off his garments, and hurl them into the fire to burn. But, the thought quickly escaped his mind when he hears a knock from his door and a muffle voice that follows.

“Harry, can I come in?” His mother asked.

“It’s unlocked mum,” he said.

The door creak open, which was followed by his mother’s footsteps that creaked against the wooden floor. She walked over to her boy, stopping just a foot behind him and smiled.

“You look wonderful dear,” she said, when he turned around to face her. 

He took in her appearance, she could pass as the most beautiful woman alive, with her luscious dark hair and kind green eyes. It was a wonder on how she never seemed age, He figured it must be her youthful smile that she wore wherever she went. 

Harry loves her with all of his heart. She has this power that no one else seems to hold; that being how she always seems to understand him by just glancing at his eyes, even if it was just  a millisecond. He was convinced that someone like her could never be real, but here she was standing in front of him.

She was wearing her evening dress that  she saved for special occasions. It was white with large floral patterns, both being a symbol of her high status, with a high neck, and long sleeves. She had her hair styled in a center part that she drew  back to be held up in soft loops.

“Thank you, you look lovely too,” Harry replied.

Her smiled dropped a fraction lower, as she looked down. Seemingly to have remembered something that worried her. Harry noticed the slight change and farrows his brows. 

“Is there something that is bothering you?” He asked

“Oh you know, I’m just a bit worried about meeting the Wilson family. I just want to make a good first impression. That’s all.” she said.

The uneasy tone in her voice didn’t go unnoticed by her son. He wonders if she wasn’t admitting the full truth, of what’s on her mind.

She started to ramble, and said , “They do supply the most Tobacco here, what if we don’t align to their standers... or what if they don’t like Gemma, I sure would hope their son takes a fancy to her-“

Harry shakes his head, and places his hands on his mother’s shoulders.

“Mum, you don’t need to fret. I’m sure they will appreciate our hospitality. Their son is thick headed if he didn’t choose to marry Gemma. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?” 

++++

Now downstairs on the main level of the house, he looks around. He notices that it looks cleaner and more polish than before, he figures it must be due to their guest arriving soon. 

The home has dark wooden walls that are polished and glossy. Whenever any of their guests have arrived before, they would enter right into the stunning view of the grand wooden staircase, that would lead upstairs. Fresh flowers were specially arranged in intricate vases, giving the house a nice smell that wasn't overwhelming to the nose. There was a large chandelier that was hanging above the entrance. Large windows also were installed to give the house a prosperous look. 

This is because anybody who would look through them would be able to see the many acres of the cotton fields. 

He soon spots his sister, Gemma, standing in front of a window, wearing her pale pink evening gown. It features a low neckline, voluminously wide skirt, and short frilly capped sleeves that reached her elbow. She styled her hair like his mother, by having her hair parted down the middle and tucked back. The only contrary difference is that she has loose ringlet curls that full down. She had a set of rose gold dangling earrings in, with corresponding bracelets on each of her wrists. 

He always thought she was better at fitting in with the wealthier style. She never looks silly in her fancy dresses. Instead, she looks proper and ladylike and would fit in easily in with the upper class effortlessly. It always gave him a pang of jealousy. 

He walks over and leans on the window sill besides to her.

”Nervous?” he asks.

”A bit... What if he doesn't fancy me?” she replies.

”Oh please, he’ll fall in love the second he spots you,” he says.

She giggles at the thought. She points to herself and exclaims, ”Of course he will, who could resist this!”

”Darn right!” he says, giving her a warm smile. 

Tonight, the Wilson family are going to have dinner with them, in hopes that their son would be interested enough to ask Gemma for her hand in marriage. 

They were a very well known family in Alabama. Due to having the largest plantation in Montgomery and also are one of the biggest producers of tobacco in the south. By having his sister married off to their son, they would reap the benefits of gaining respect and power from the people in the state of Alabama. 

His father walks into the room, the same door Harry did. 

”How do I look?” he asks them.

He looks like a walking replica of Harry but with a few added wrinkles drawn onto his face. He was wearing his formal attire that was similar to Harry’s. The only difference between the two is that he had on a pocket watch that was hooked onto his waistcoat. 

”Excellent father,” Gemma replies with a smile on her face. 

”Good Good, they should be here at any moment now.”

Coincidentally, there was a knock at their door. Harry's father gave a signal to the closest servant to let them. They scurry out of the room to the main entrance to open the door, with Harry and his family following behind. When the door open two men came in.

The taller and older looking one immediately walked over to his father, to shake his hand.

”Mr. Styles, it's a pleasure to finally meet you and your family,” he announces.

He was an inch taller than his father with black hair that was smoothed back, a thick mustache, and bold dark eyes. He is wearing a grey shawl-collared waistcoat, along with a dark contrasting coat and trousers. The coat has thick velvet lapels and wide collars. He also has a top hat resting on his head. 

He looks turns around slightly to point out the other man behind him and says, ”That is my son, Henry.” 

”It’s my pleasure to have you and your son, Mr. Wilson,” said Mr. Styles and points to his family next to him, ”This is my wife, Anne. And these two are my children Gemma and Harry.”

Mr. Wilson greets and shakes the ladies hands. When he reaches Harry, he stops, eyes burning holes into harry’s. He wanted to squirm and hide under his unblinking look. 

”How old are you Harry?” he asked, still not blinking.

Harry wanted to bolt and run as far away from the man in front of him. He made his skin crawl.

”18 sir, ” he finally said.

Mr. Wilson finally tore his eyes away to looked over at his father.

”You must be paying then off to keep him here with you than having him out and fighting. I’m doing the same here with my son.”

Mr. Styles clears his throat and says, ”You would be correct on that. I need him here with me.”

Mr. Wilson nods his head. 

”I found it interesting how you invited my son and I for dinner without previously running into each other before.” 

He walks away from his previous position of standing in front of Harry and strides over to stand next to Henry. Harry lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding and looks around. His sister has a lost look on her face which he thinks they might be sharing. His mother looks on edge, sneaking glances between the two men in front of her. Henry looks nonchalant by his father and harry starts to wonder if he talks at all. When his eyes finally rest on his father, he's surprised by how he looks. His body is tense, with only his hands shaking by his side. Harry has never seen his father look so petrified before in his life. He starts to worry about what will happen as he looks back at Mr. Wilson.

He continues, ”I would hope you did not just invite us to use my son for your gain. That being your gain is to use our money to keep your son out of war?” 

Harry froze, his mind racing with too many thoughts. Was this a dream? Was his father planning this whole thing to get Gemma to be married off just to keep him at home? He felt uneasy in his stomach like he's going to hurl any second now. 

His father stutters, trying to answer the man’s question. Harry feels a wave of dread wash over him. His heart drops to his feet with the word no echoing in the walls of his head. 

Mr. Wilson shakes his head with a glint of satisfaction in his dark eyes, ”I’m sorry Mr. Styles, but I'm afraid I can't let my son marry a girl who her family is too cheap to even afford to keep their son at home. It's a shame really, I'm sure Henry would have loved being with Gemma.”

Henry's face twists into a sly smirk mirroring his father’s, ”I prefer blondes.” 

Harry almost misses Gemma’s flinch at the remark. Anger boils inside him and both of his hands clench into fists. 

”Well, thank you for the invitation, I wish the best for you all. And Harry I hope you enjoy your time in hell.” said Mr. Wilson.

They open the door about to leave but Harry won't let him without having the gratification of the last word. He still feels vengeful for the way they talked to his family.

”Thank you sir, I'm sure I'll have a mighty old time in hell while I wait there for you.” he says. 

He turns around only for a fraction of a second before walking back out the door to leave. 

The air around him and his family is thick with a myriad of heavy emotions. Harry's anger quickly diminishes and reality hits him on the head.

He's going to war.

Tears start to brim his eyes as he start to feels hopeless. He can't look at anyone else in fear that he'll break down and bawl in front of everyone, so he stares at his shoes. He hears his father speak quietly and strains to make out what he said. When he does, he wishes he didn't, but he did.

”I’m sorry,” his father says, his voice is shaky and filled with guilt and regret, ”I tried.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis is traveling with a Union army and finds something shocks him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now we are getting into Louis’ life a bit more. Make sure you pay attention to the date since this chapter is taking place 6 months before the last chapter.
> 
> Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think <3

November 19th, 1863

It was a late evening, the golden sunlight washes over the bustling city of white canvas. A couple of miles outside of Memphis, Tennessee, lies a Union army camp. There are hundreds of tents that the soldiers occupy. It covers the small valley of stretched flat grass and broad planted trees.

In the heart of the camp, Louis sits in front of a table a few feet away from his tent. He is wearing his uniform which is his dark blue trousers and his jacket. 

He loves evenings like this where he can sit and think of ways to improve himself. He feels like he’s always messing up. He always tries the best that he can, but knows that’s not enough. There’s always this nagging feeling that he gets in his stomach. It reminds him that he should be doing more to improve himself rather than sitting and relaxing. 

A man with caramel eyes and silky dark brown hair walks over to Louis and sits in the seat across from him. His name is Zayn, an XV corps commander, who he met a couple of months ago. They got along immediately after meeting each other. Both of them were howling at each other's jokes with tears running down their eyes. Louis always found comfort in Zayn. He feels like he could tell him anything without worrying about being judged. He also admires how brilliant Zayn is. He’s known for coming up with awfully witty strategies for battle. This would always give them an advantage against their opponent. 

Zayn places two already opened beer bottles on the table, one in front of Louis and the other closer to him. Louis takes a swig from his bottle and lets out a grateful thank you after gulping it down.

“The recruits are here,” said Zayn.

Louis nods as he glances over Zayn’s shoulder. He spots a group of twenty unfamiliar faces following a captain into the camp. A shorter looking soldier catches Louis’ eye. The boy’s uniform swallows his petite figure. The bottom of his trousers pools by his shoes and his sleeves hide his hands from view. When he focuses on the boy’s face, he concludes that the young boy can’t be older than 16. He feels a wave of heavy emotion wash over him as he continues to ponder at the boy.

Louis directs his gaze back at Zayn and says, “You see that little one over there?”

He looks over his shoulder to turn to face the group and asks, “The one with the blonde curls?”

“Yeah, how old do you reckon he is?”

“Dunno, my bet is 13.”

Louis shakes his head and says, “Nah, he’s too tall to be 13.”

Zayn looks back at Louis and shrugs at him looking uninterested. The group starts walking in their direction. Once the boy is walking next to their table, Louis reaches out and grabs the boy’s arm. The boy flinches, looking startled as he looks down at who’s holding his arm.

“What’s your name kid?” Louis asks.

“Easy now, we don’t want to scare him off,” Zayn teases.

Louis rolls his eyes at the comment as he continues to look at the nervous boy in front of him, waiting for his answer.

The boy looks down at his feet and answers, “I’m Luke.”

“Well Luke, why don’t you sit and chat with us?” said Louis while gesturing to the open chair next to them with his other hand.

Luke looks up from his feet to make eye contact with Louis. Louis immediately takes note of his brown kaleidoscope eyes. Flashes of green and blue reflect off of the brown eyes when the light illuminates them.

“I would but I gotta be with the captain,” says Luke.

“Nah don’t worry about that, we can show you around afterward,” said Louis.

Luke gives a small nod and hobbles over to the empty chair. He’s seated on the side between Louis and Zayn. 

Louis feels a strong urge to protect the boy. To take him under his wing. He doesn’t want the boy to face the horrors of war by himself. He doesn’t want him to lose himself.

“Well I’m Zayn and this is Louis,” said Zayn. 

Luke nods his head and gives them both a hesitant handshake.

“How old are you?” Louis asks.

He looks away to avoid their curious stares and replies, “18.”

Zayn and Louis both snort lustily, knowing that’s not true.

“That’s complete bullshit mate,” Zayn says.

“Yeah, you can trust us with your real age we won’t ever snitch ya out like that,” said Louis.

Luke noticeably relaxes into the back of the chair and says, “Alright, I’m 15.”

Louis nods as he cracks a grin and says, “Okay, Zayn guessed you were 13.”

Luke’s head whips towards Zayn, looking completely offended.

“How the heck do I look 13?”

“I don’t know,” Zayn smiles, “Maybe it's your huge doe eyes.”

Louis laughs at Luke’s baffled face. 

Before Luke can defend himself, Louis says, “I disagree, mate, he looks like a cute little squirrel.”

Zayn bellows with laughter as Luke’s face scrunches up while violently shaking his head. 

“Heyyy I look nothing like a squirrel!” 

“Oh, give it a rest. You’re now my little squirrely.” Louis said as he messes the kid’s hair.

They both laugh again. Lucas gives a little huff but a small smile starts to shine on his face when he watches them laugh. 

“You never told me how old you guys are,” Lucas says after the laughter dies down.

“I’m 19, bout to turn 20 in December,” Louis says, “Zayn here is about to turn 19 soon.” 

“I didn’t realize I was talking to such an old man,” Luke says with a smirk.

Zayn's head falls back as he cracks with laughter. Louis chuckles as he lashes out to grab Luke. When he does he puts him in a headlock position in the crook of his elbow as he rumbles his hair. 

“And I didn’t realize you were such a little shit,” said Louis.

Luke squeaks and tries to wiggle his head out of Louis’ hold. When Louis lets go, they all burst into fits of laughter. 

They laugh for a few seconds until they hear someone clear their throat. They abruptly stop when they hear the noise. Their necks crane up to look up at the man who’s standing in front of them. 

“I'm told that one of you is Tomlinson,” he said.

Louis' face reddens at the stern voice, igniting fear of getting in trouble.

Louis raises his hand to his face and says, “That would be me, sir.”

Louis shakes intensely when the man’s harsh stare meets his eyes. The man clears his throat and says, “I’ve received a letter from General Grant. It explains that due to the previous commander’s death, he promoted you to replace him.” 

Louis’ eyes widened at the man’s words and said, “Me? Why does he want me?”

“Does it look like I know why?” he pulls an envelope out of his jacket and tosses it on the table, “That’s the letter I got if you still don’t believe me. It also says he assigns you to take the job of leading us to Chattanooga by the 25th.”

Before Louis can ask more questions, the man leaves and disappears into the line of tents. Louis looks down at the letter and something starts to swell in him. He starts to feel overwhelmed by his new position. His thoughts start to cloud his mind, asking millions of questions at once.  _ How can I pull this off? Why did he have to pick me? How am I supposed to lead a whole army by myself? How do you lead an army? Which way is Chattanooga anyway?  _ Zayn and Luke peer at Louis, confused about what to do or say.

Finally, after a few moments Zayn speaks up, “Do you want me to open the letter?”

When Louis doesn’t say anything, so Zayn takes that as a yes and swipes up the letter and reads it. Then, he reaches for the envelope and takes out two patches and another piece of paper. After examining the package Zayn looks at Louis.

“He gave you a map and schedule to follow these two patches.”

Louis calms down a bit when he hears about getting a map. He doesn’t respond and instead chugs down the rest of his beer. 

“I’m going to go and show Luke around camp so you can have time to process this. I’ll talk to you later,” said Zayn.

+++

The sky is now dark and Louis is standing with his back against the tree. He managed to get a cigar from one of the other soldiers. He holds the cigar in his mouth and brings the lighter up to light it. He takes a long drag as he closes his eyes before letting it out. 

“I thought you didn’t smoke,” said Zayn

He opens his eyes and spots the outline of Zayn standing a couple of feet in front of him. 

“I do when I need to,” Louis said, sitting down against the tree pulling his legs towards his chest.

“Must be stressing you out then?” Zayn asks, walking to sit next to Louis, copying his sitting position.

Louis hums while taking another drag. Zayn reaches into his jacket to pull out his cigar and lighter.

After lighting it he says, “You know you can talk to me about it if you want.”

Louis takes the cigar out of his mouth, holding between his middle and pointer finger in his right hand. 

“I wasn’t expecting it, you know? They give me, a 19-year-old kid, the responsibility to control a whole army? Why couldn’t they give that to somebody older?”

It’s quiet for a moment until Zayn speaks, “They chose you for a reason. In their eyes, they think you’re the best fit.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of messing everything up. I always mess everything up. But the really scary thing is if I mess up, I’m not only hurting myself,” Louis looks over a Zayn, “I could hurt so many of our men. They all have their lives in my hand and they could all die because of me. So many families and friends will hurt because of me. We can even risk losing the war if I mess up.”

“You know you’re just bringing them from point A to point B, right? I’m the one who’s bringing them into battle. I’m the one who’s giving them instructions that I’m not even sure they’ll be successful. And yes, some men will die in our hands, but it’s inevitable. You got to think of it like how we survived today, there’s still that chance it’s our last day. That chance still holds on outside of war. We can only do the best we can and that’s all we can do.”

Louis sighs deeply. He knows Zayn’s right, he’s always right. He decides then and there that he’s going to do everything perfectly. He can’t live with more guilt. There's too much already dragging him down from his past. He has to do this because maybe this will give him the redemption he needs. 


End file.
